Hell's Chance
by Thorncastor2
Summary: Orihime gets a new babysitter. And Grimmjow is thrilled as bubbly with the arrangement. Grimmhime.
1. The Girl in Question

**A/N:** My first Grimmhime fic. Please enjoy!

* * *

**Hell's Chance**

Chapter One: The Girl in Question

* * *

"Stop complaining. It's immature."

Grimmjow's scowl darkened. To him, it didn't matter how Ulquiorra tried to rationalize it. There was nothing remotely glorifying about guard duty. That was a job more deserving of a lower-level Numeros not a high-ranking Espada. The fact that Ulquiorra had been pigeon-holed into doing it himself all this time only served to convince him of how far he'd fallen. And despite the warning, he summarized his discontent in the most eloquent way he knew how.

"This blows."

"If you choose to abandon your orders," warned Ulquiorra, "I'll have to inform Aizen."

"Is that how you fight your battles now?" scoffed Grimmjow. "By threatening to tell on your opponent? You're saying _I'm _immature?"

But rather than respond to his crackling aura of hostility, Ulquiorra regarded him like he did everyone else…by not regarding him at all.

"We're here."

The two ended their trek at the cell holding the girl in question.

"Normally, it would be a waste of my time to call attention to your new responsibilities. But in this case-"

"Please. She's a sixteen-year-old girl. How much of a threat could she possibly be?"

"Obviously you've never spent much time with a sixteen-year-old girl," said Ulquiorra. "Or with any girl for that matter."

He growled at the jab. "What we're talking about here is babysitting. Last time I checked, anyone with an IQ below Wonderweiss could do that."

"Then I suppose you'll have no trouble then."

"Get bent."

An odd movement that looked suspiciously like a smirk crossed over Ulquiorra's face.

"The food cart is brought in twice a day: once at noon and again at six. She eats little. Sometimes not all. In which case, you may need to use force."

"Great."

"Non-fatal force."

"Great," he said dully.

"Other than that, she'll need no more tending to. Also, if she asks to use the privy-"

"Just give me the damn key already."

Ulquiorra reached into his pocket as Grimmjow held out his palm like it was about to be sneezed on. But to his surprise, Ulquiorra did not immediately relinquish it. Instead he looked like he was experiencing what might have been a moment of hesitation. Though it was hard for Grimmjow to tell since his face had about as much emotional range as a cinder block.

"The girl can be very emotional. It can be very annoying."

"I'm sorry. Did we not just establish that she was sixteen?"

"Yes. But understand that this girl is…different."

"So she's like, what, a transgender or something?"

Ulquiorra shut his eyes.

"What I'm trying to say is that since her outbursts are about as tolerable as yours, they shouldn't be encouraged. The best way to do that is to be sensitive to her needs."

Grimmjow looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone standing behind him.

"You do know who you're talking to right?"

Ulquiorra sighed as he handed over the key.

"Is it really too much to ask for you to take this seriously?"

"It's not actually. But being serious is what takes the fun out of it."

* * *

According to his calendar, which was basically a collection of tics he scratched onto a wall, Grimmjow spent a total of seven days on guard duty.

One week that had passed at the pace of boulder snail crossing Hueco Mundo.

Though for all he knew, he might as well have been spending that time guarding a pet rock because all she seemed to know how to do was sit there and waste a significant amount of space that could have been given to an _actual_ pet rock.

Looking back, their introduction was mostly an exchange of monosyllabic dialogue. On her part at least:

_He was greeted to the sight of her sitting primly at the end of the couch, head bowed and hands clasped together like someone about to martyred. The way her body silhouetted against the cold moonlight made for a__picture depressing enough to make moments with Ulquiorra seem like New Year's. _

_It was a while before she noticed him._

"_Oh," was all the eloquence she could muster as she slowly began to register that he was a different person. _

"_Ulquiorra…?"_

_That she was thinking of someone else while he was doing her the favor of keeping her alive made his teeth clench._

"_There's been a reassignment." _

_She regarded him warily. _

"_That means you and I get to be best friends." _

"…_okay." _

That was pretty much it. She hadn't spoken a word to him since.

During his rotations, he couldn't help but think, "Seriously? This is what Aizen's been jacking off about this whole time?"

For fuck's sake, the woman could bend the fabric of reality! But rather than do the obvious and blow away every pathetic fuck that came within range, she _chose_ to submit herself to those same pathetic fucks and get screwed over. That didn't make a lick of sense to him.

To add insult to injury, he was required to write "observation reports" about his semi-catatonic charge. But what the hell was he supposed to write about when all she did, besides eat their food, was take up precious oxygen?

Eventually his single-sentenced reports, which featured literary gems like: '_Actually moved a couple of inches today, but I might have been dreaming that' _evolved into a series of drawings on the millions of things he'd rather be doing.

Like being in a coma.

His favorite drawing so far was '_Dear Ulquiorra'_ which became a whole goddamn masterpiece on the many ways he would kill the Cuatro Espada for assigning him the most boring task this side of hell. And also for being a total _liar_ because the girl didn't succumb to any of the "emotional outbursts" he'd been warned about. From what he'd seen, the girl couldn't succumb to an emotional outburst any more than Ulquiorra would if he were pre-menstruating. Needless to say Ulquiorra was not amused with his works of art, but only commented:

"At least your penmanship's improved."

Grimmjow later learned that Nnoitra saved a copy of _'Dear Ulquiorra' _and placed it on the fridge in Szayel's laboratory. The one place he knew Ulquiorra would never go. After that incident, Grimmjow was no longer required to do write-ups, which he supposed was the only good thing to come out of the shit hole he was in. Unfortunately his misconduct did not go unnoticed and he was brought in shortly after for an inquisition. But not with Ulquiorra.

With Gin Ichimaru.

* * *

"Wow. You're fucked," Nnoitra said delightedly as he led him to the Surveillance Tower.

"Can it, Overbite."

Surprisingly, his audience with Gin was a lot more civil than he thought it would be. At least, at first. Not a whip or chain or any other torture device in sight.

"Tell me why you think you're here, Grimmjow."

"I think I'm here because of some fag's overreaction to the doodles on my homework."

"Yea, well. Ulquiorra's always been a pretty serious guy. So, how is she?"

"Fine, I guess."

The cold silence that followed suggested that Grimmjow had given him the wrong answer.

"You _guess_?"

He tensed as the ex-captain stood up, placing his hands on either side of the table as he leaned in with his disconcerting predator's grin.

"Guessing is a word that is used by incompetent subordinates," he said quietly. "I'm actually disappointed, Grimmjow, I'd have thought you'd know better."

"Yea?" Grimmjow challenged. "What's it to you?"

He unsheathed his Shinso.

Grimmjow's hand itched for his Pantera, but the ex-captain caught the movement.

"Easy now," warned Gin. "We don't want none of that. Trust me."

Grimmjow snarled, but kept his fingers hovering over his zanpakuto.

He watched with wary eyes as Gin paced around the table. His shinso glittering like some preternatural fang.

"I'm a man of necessity, Grimmjow. Do you know what it means to be a man of necessity? It means that very often I have to do things that I don't want to do. It requires immense sacrifice…and very careful planning."

"What do you mean 'careful planning'?"

Half a blink later, he felt the steel curve of a wakizashi pressed against his jugular vein.

"It means that if you continue to go blunder through your duties like an idiot, you'll be interfering. Do you know how hard it was to switch Ulquiorra's rotation with yours?"

Grimmjow blinked.

"You… what? Why?"

Here the Espada noted how the unsettling grin had slid off of Gin's face. Truth be told, he didn't know which expression he hated least.

"I did for necessity. Ugly necessity. Now, I'm going to write off your childish behavior as a misunderstanding, but all I have to say to you is that you have to take good care of the girl. She is very instrumental to Aizen's plans. Aizen's plans can't afford to have liabilities… and neither can mine."

"Plans. Planning. Yea. I got that," Grimmjow echoed impatiently. "But what sort of plan are you talking about? And what does that have to do with me and her?"

At once, Gin sheathed his shinso. Grimmjow watched him with hackles raised.

"What I'm about to say to you...cannot leave this room." He cocked his head to side, his friendly grin returning. "I've already disabled the surveillance for this intervention. If I'm lucky, neither Aizen or Tousen will notice. Regardless, you have to swear that what I'm going to say to you will not leave this room. Or I'll kill you." He said the latter sunnily, as if he hadn't just randomly threatened his life. "Are we clear?"

Grimmjow eyed him balefully.

"Crystal."

* * *

The next morning, Grimmjow had an idea.

Granted, it might not have been his own idea. But it was an idea nonetheless. And it propelled him forward, gave him energy. Suddenly, he felt alive.

He pounded down the corridor that led to the armor ward. It didn't take much for him to get past security, a trouble he resolved by cold cocking the unlucky bastards with his fist. It took a while for him to search through the weapons storage, but eventually he found what he was looking for...

He burst into her room a few moments later, startling her out of gloomy reverie.

"Get up."

She didn't.

"I said get up!"

She scrambled off the couch, but made sure to put a few feet of distance between them.

"Here. Put these on."

He threw a long chain in her direction. There were cuffs attached to the end. She fixed him with a dull look of shock.

"Are you going to kill me?"

It was the most she ever said to him in the past seven days. A part of him felt inexplicably pleased, but he balled it up and cast it aside when he realized just how stupid she sounded.

"Why would I waste my time?"

When he saw that she wasn't going to put them on, he marched over to do it himself. He grabbed one of her wrists. Then frowned.

"You're hands are small," he said.

"I'm…sorry?" she said as he held up her fingers, surprised by their delicateness.

Grimmjow shrugged.

"Nah. They'll still fit."

She flinched at the harsh clank that followed.

"Too tight?"

"Um…no."

"Good."

He stepped around her to pick up the other end of the chain.

"What are you…?"

"Shush."

He unlocked the door to her cell and poked his head out into the hallway.

"Alright. Let's go."

"Go where?"

He tugged harshly at the chain.

"Ah!"

"C'mon."

He dragged her out like a forlorn puppy on the end of a leash.

Orihime cringed at the harsh desert sunlight, unused to its glaring brightness after her long captivity.

"I thought Hueco Mundo didn't have a sun?"

"It doesn't," said Grimmjow. "Aizen made an artificial one for Las Noches. He says it helps him keep an eye out for intruders, but I don't believe him."

"Then what…?"

She froze in mid-sentence as they came to a halt.

"What…what is this?"

They reached an exit that stood before a platform the size of a city. It was enclosed by what looked like thousands of rows of elevated seats, like in ancient coliseums. On the ground level were several groups of Arrancar engaged in armed combat. The clash of their swords rang through the air as the force of their balas shot through the earth. A few spectators gathered above them, trying to pass the time.

"Grimmjow-sama?" said a scruffy-looking Numeros he recognized as Tesla. "What are you doing here?"

A few of the others paused as Grimmjow came into the arena. It was rare that an Espada would come to their training ground since they hardly ever came into contact with those that weren't part of their Fraccion. Others wondered at the girl Grimmjow brought with him.

"Who is she?"

"Obviously one of Aizen's prisoners."

"Is she human?"

"I doubt it. But she doesn't look like one of _us_ either."

Grimmjow surveyed the restless crowd with a look of mild annoyance.

"Everyone clear out!"

"No way," growled Loly. "This is _our _training ground. The Espada have their own."

"Well, I ain't there now. Am I?"

"What's this about, Grimmjow?" asked Menoly as she neared defensively behind Loly's shoulder.

"You want the short version?"

He grinned cruelly at their agitated faces.

"This girl?"

He yanked at the chain so that Orihime stumbled forward.

"I'm gonna train her."


	2. The Alternative

**A/N:** Some minor edits made with Chapter 1. Overall, I'm pleased with how Chapter 2 turned out, considering it took me forever to get back to this project. Happy reading!

* * *

**Hell's Chance**

Chapter Two: The Alternative

* * *

"Yep. I think he's lost it," said Nnoitra.

Szayel adjusted the bridge of his spectacle-like mask.

"Oh please. You're acting as if this is unusual for him. I seem to recall you doing something similar not too long ago. Or have you already forgotten how you shamelessly attacked the former Tres Espada?"

"You helped," said Nnoitra. "Besides, that was different. Nelliel was under the delusion that she was superior to me. I was doing her a favor."

"You're a saint."

Nnoitra ignored him. "Grimmjow, on the other hand, is treating that girl like an equal."

"Just because he's decided to train a woman-"

"A human woman." Nnoitra shook his head. "Like I said, he's lost it."

Szyael shrugged. "Sanity, insanity- it's all purely relative."

"Hn. _You_ would know," said Nnoitra.

The two of them sat side by side in the virtually emptied stadium that towered over the main arena. One wore a mildly perturbed look while the other watched with scientific fascination at the strange drama unfolding before them.

* * *

Grimmjow charged forward as Orihime cowered behind her Santen Kesshun.

"I don't know what I did!" she cried. "But I promise I won't do it again!"

"Sorry. Not good enough!"

His sword scraped across her shield in a vertical slash. A long fissure erupted down the surface, like a crack in a mirror.

"You can't keep this up forever."

"I don't understand. What do you want from me?" said Orihime.

A ripple of dust blew past her feet as he rose into the air. He pointed his blade at her.

"Sooner or later that shield of yours is going to break. Which means you'll have about a tenth of a second to raise another one. That's if you're lucky. Seeing as how you haven't got even developed the most _basic_ reflexes to do that, killing you would almost feel like cheating. That leaves you with just one option."

He cut his blade across his forefinger then lowered his stance as a ball of crackling blue energy burst from his palm.

Nnoitra leapt from his seat. "The hell?"

"I suggest we move." Szayel pointed to an adjacent set of rows.

"You think I'm just gonna stand by and watch as he decimates half of Las Noches while_ I'm_ still in it?"

Szayel sighed before shoving him forward. "C'mon!"

Grimmjow clenched his teeth as the cero he gathered swept through his body like a live current of electricity.

"I'm gonna give you until the count of three. Got it? You've got until the count of three to come up with a counterattack. Otherwise…"

Orihime's eyes widened as he took aim.

"See you in the next life!"

_What do I do? _She thought wildly.

"One…"

Grimmjow was right. Her Santen Kesshun wouldn't be able to withstand an amplified cero blast at point-blank range and she wouldn't be fast enough to raise another shield without sacrificing one of the Shun Shun Rikka. Her only hope was to use Tsubaki, but she had already lost him once to another Espada who, as far as she knew, had been much less powerful than Grimmjow.

"Two…"

There was no one around who could save her this time. No one. Not even Ichigo.

Clumsily, she reached for her hairpins.

"Ko..Koten…Zan…"

She imagined the hard-lined expression on Rukia's face. _When worse comes to worse, _the pale-faced Shinigami told her, _do not hesitate._

"Don't hesitate," Orihime whispered to herself.

"Three!"

"K-koten Zanshun!"

"Gran Rey Cero!"

At once, a dart of orange light flew across the platform. Orihime froze in astonishment as it raced towards the oncoming cero. The cero itself was unlike anything she had ever seen. The closest thing she could compare it to was a burning meteor she once saw while camping in the mountains. But as the giant sphere of blue light spun towards her, Orihime was even more astonished that her fear had evaporated…

Her Koten Zanshun struck his Gran Rey Cero… and pierced right through its core.

* * *

"Did…did she just do that with a _hairpin_?" said Szayel.

"Forget that," spat Nnoitra. "What the hell's going on now?"

The Quinto Espada received his answer when Grimmjow's cero shattered into a thousand needle-like fragments that fanned out into the stadium.

"Oh shi-"

Szayel touched his shoulder. "Let's move."

They dashed towards the center of the arena as a fiery rain of cero bulleted through their surroundings with destructive abandon.

It took less than five minutes for more than half of the training ground to collapse into a pile of burning rubble. It took far longer than that for the smoke to clear.

Nnoitra coughed. "Where's Grimmjow?"

Szayel brushed the dust out of his hair. "Why? Are you actually worried?"

"As if. I'm gonna tear him a new one for ruining my cape." He grabbed at what remained of his spoon-shaped hood.

"Trust me," said Szayel. "You're better off."

"Oi!"

Both turned their heads to see Grimmjow hovering above one of the charred pits from where the city-sized platform once stood. In his arms was the girl who, at the moment, was rendered completely unconscious.

"Anyone mind getting a doctor? Or something?"

* * *

"Your impulse towards stupidity is astounding," Ulquiorra deadpanned.

"I'm so ashamed I could cry," said Grimmjow.

Harribel sighed. "Is this really the time to be making jokes?"

Nnoitra shrugged. "I thought it was funny."

"Why are we here again?" Starrk yawned.

"Because Grimmjow screwed up," said Yammy. "Royally."

"Big surprise," said Zommari. "You do realize that while we hold you here, Aizen-sama will have to personally take action?"

"So Grimmjow," Barragan cut in. "Do you have anything to say? Or are you just going to stand there looking smugly at the rest of us?"

"Technically, I'm sitting down."

The Sexta Espada grinned from his seat placed at the lower end of the conference table. The difference between him and the others was that he was not doing so comfortably, as the guards had been ordered to bind him with wards reserved for their worst transgressors. Although Grimmjow maintained his infuriatingly carefree demeanor, everyone else was satisfied to know that at least he was being held in place by an immense amount of pain.

"Pathetic," said Ulquiorra.

"You're just jealous," said Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra threw him a cutting glare, but didn't take the bait. Grimmjow didn't think he would. Even so, it made him feel good to know that he could still one-up that pale self-righteous prick even when he was pinned down.

"You're not actually jealous, are you?" pressed Yammy.

"It's a love triangle," added Nnoitra, hoping to heighten the underlying tension to blood-spraying levels.

"I watched the surveillance tapes, you know," said Grimmjow, "I saw the way you looked at her after she slapped your face. It's like you were struck by lightning. Tell me, how many times have you thought about that moment since it happened?"

Ulquiorra's jaw tightened.

Stark groaned, "Look, I'm tired as hell. Let's try to stay on topic, huh?"

"I couldn't agree more."

All eyes turned to the shadowed figure that loomed over Grimmjow's shoulder.

"Aizen-sama," they murmured.

He greeted them pleasantly enough, which was always a bad sign. "I'm afraid that I'll have to dismiss the rest of you. I wish to speak with Grimmjow alone."

* * *

Orihime pressed her ear against her chamber door, searching for a sign- any sign- that someone was coming. It had been a few hours since she woke in the infirmary bleary-eyed and disoriented, her head pounding. No one had said a word to her, even as she was escorted back to her cell. What disturbed her the most was how much she (very secretly) hoped that person would be Grimmjow.

She sighed, not knowing what to find more disturbing: the fact that he might be facing some horrific punishment (didn't he have his entire arm removed for some mild offense a while back?) or the fact that she was _afraid _that he might be facing some horrific punishment. A week ago, she might have said he deserved it- even though she would have regretted thinking so. She had been in this place for so long, she decided, that she was starting to forget how to feel emotions like sympathy.

But it was Grimmjow, of all people, who made her remember. And the sudden change of heart was confusing. Then again, Grimmjow was a very confusing person.

He had marched into her room without explanation, yanked her outside on a leash and humiliated her in front of the rest of his kind by claiming that he was "training her". As if he were some kind of demented pet owner announcing that he was housebreaking his puppy. She was beyond upset, but the question she couldn't answer was why. Why would he go through the trouble? Why would he waste his time?

And more importantly... why did he save her?

As the stadium crumbled around her, she remembered staring in wide-eyed shock as the colonnades placed around the lower platform began to topple into each other like a circle of dominos. It was hard to stand still as the ground shifted violently beneath her. She remembered tripping forward, then glancing up at a dark looming shadow of falling debris. The sight paralyzed her.

She braced herself for the inevitable…but the inevitable never came. At the last second, she felt someone grab the scruff of her collar and toss her against a remaining wall of the arena. The breath choked out of her as her back slammed hard against the stone masonry. Dust raced in every direction as the stadium groaned, its foundation sinking further into the sand. Grimmjow's body huddled over hers, his face buried in the crook of her shoulder. One of his arms trapped her against the wall while other hugged her in a vice-like grip, making her intake of oxygen even more impossible.

"You better not scream," he said harshly into her ear.

She had begun to lose consciousness by then and tried to say something.

"I'm not Kurosaki," he said.

Then nothing. Fade to black.

She still couldn't understand what he meant to do by saving her. Obviously he had something in mind, some evil plan that he needed her for. She was his only link to Ichigo, after all. It only made sense to assume that he was using her to get close to him.

Didn't it?

The door flung open, pushing her back.

"Grimmjow-san?"

Immediately, she felt a rush of guilt for sounding so hopeful. Hope wasn't exactly an emotion that she should associate with her captor- fear and resentment, maybe, but definitely not hope. Even the way she called his name reminded her of how she called for the Shinigami. Grimmjow had said it himself: he wasn't Ichigo. Not by a longshot. She shouldn't be confusing the two.

"Hello there, Mrs. Jeagerjaquez," said the silhouettes of Loly and Menoly.

Any inkling of hope she felt was soon snuffed by a feeling of dark foreboding.

* * *

"Well done, Grimmjow. I'm very proud."

Tousen had too much pride to face fall, but considering the complete left-fieldedness of his lord and master's accolade, he settled for a more delicate (but nonetheless shocked) retort.

"Aizen-sama, how many times does this imbecile have to defy your orders? He deserves a traitor's execution."

Gin, however, remained tactfully silent. Tactful, however, was never Grimmjow's forte.

"Yea, what he said."

Aizen smiled that eerily calm smile before elaborating. "You have succeeded where Ulquiorra-san has failed. For the first time since her imprisonment, she has used her Koten Zanshun- one of her least developed techniques- against your Gran Rey Cero. And she _succeeded_."

"Where is she?" said Grimmjow. Then suddenly, "She's not dead, right?"

Aizen paused. "Your concern surprises me, Grimmjow-san. Tell me the truth. Are you using her for some hidden purpose or have you actually grown fond of her?"

It was an act of extreme arrogance on Aizen's part to interrogate Grimmjow when they both knew he could tear the answer out of him with a thought. For his own sake, Grimmjow played along. He didn't like it, in fact he outright hated it, but he had no other alternatives. At least, not yet.

He locked his icy blue glare on Gin. "I wouldn't use her to defy you. Lord Aizen"

A long silence. "Good."

"So," said Grimmjow, his hands fidgeting ubbing against his binds, "Can I go now? I'm kind of itchy."

Aizen regarded him evenly. "Not yet." He steepled his fingers over the conference table in that unnerving way that made Grimmjow want to snap something in half. "There's something else that I would like to ask of you. Something I would like you to do for her, actually."

Grimmjow's face remained impassive. "What is it?"

* * *

Orihime felt the coldness of the wall behind her.

There she was: cornered, trapped, and again without any powers. They had been completely drained after "training session" and would take at least another twenty-four hours before they came back. But really, there were only so many times in a day that she could tolerate being treated like some dull-witted game animal. And after that debacle with Grimmwjow, she had just about reached her limit.

"Grimmjow," she thought. "If I ever make it out of this, I am going to make sure I use my Koten Zanshun on _you_ instead of your Gran Rey Cero!"

She didn't know how Loly and Menoly managed to evade security, but the fact of the matter was that they were here now and probably seconds away from eviscerating her. Aizen be damned. Even now, Loly was rounding on her with a crazed shark-like grin.

"What's the matter, Princess?" said Loly, her fingers flexing as though she would dearly love to wrap them around her throat. Honestly, Orihime wouldn't put it past her to try. "You gonna start bleating for your Prince Charming to come and rescue you like the weakling that you are?"

"Don't you dare talk about Ichigo," said Orihime, in a voice that didn't sound as assertive as she hoped.

The dark-haired Arrancar laughed. "I'm not talking about your precious Shinigami. I'm talking about a certain blue-haired Espada who has uncharacteristically sworn his fealty to you. In front of Lord no less."

Orihime started. "S-Stop joking around."

A fist smashed into the wall behind her. Orihime gasped as Loly brushed the side of her cheek with sharpened claws. "You annoy the hell out of me, you know that? I have no idea what they see in you. Aizen-sama. Ulquiorra. Grimmjow... but somehow, you manage to wheedle your way in and wrap everyone around your little finger. It makes me sick. What game are you playing at, huh? What makes you so special?"

Orihime stared directly into those hateful, ruby-colored eyes. "I'm no one. You should leave."

Loly slapped her. Orihime clutched her bleeding cheek. If it had been any harder, Orihime was sure that the force would have twisted her neck. But Loly wouldn't try anything like that yet. She wanted to toy with her first.

"Here's an idea." Loly's palm began to glimmer with a crimson-colored cero. It certainly wasn't as potent as Grimmjow's, but it would certainly kill her at such close proximity.

Menoly gasped. "Loly! What are you doing? Stop!"

Orihime knew that Menoly was only saying this for her friend's sake and not hers. Once Aizen-sama discovered what she had done, he would certainly kill them both- a fact that Loly either didn't know or chose to ignore.

"No!" Loly cried. "I'm going to end this once and for all. I'm going to slice this girl open and find out just what makes her so goddamn special."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a familiar voice at the door.

* * *

On the surface, Grimmjow didn't look angry. In fact, everything about his composure looked as indifferent as ever. But beneath his careless visage, Orihime could detect something far more dangerous…something that was begging for an opportunity to be unleashed.

He unleashed it. "Beat, it kid."

Suddenly, Loly was sent flying into the opposite side of the room by a backhand that would have decapitated a normal human. She whimpered as she rose limply from the floor, an ugly bruise forming over the left side of her face (the very same spot where she had struck Orihime).

"You bastard!" She cried. "Aizen-sama will-!"

"Will do jack shit for the likes of you," said Grimmjow.

Loly spat at his feet. "You think you could just waltz in here and do whatever your want? When everyone knows that Aizen would dust you in a second?"

"That's my line." He crouched over her. "Get it through your head. Aizen doesn't give a rat's ass about anyone but Aizen. The sooner your learn that the better."

To her credit, Loly didn't back down. "Just who do you think you are?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as he lifted her up by the shirt. "I'm telling you this as the Sexta Espada. And the girl you planned on assaulting? She's now part of my Fraccion, which makes your little breaking-and-entering stint an act punishable by death."

Orihime wasn't the only one whose head spun in circles at the statement.

"Your Fraccion?" Said Menoly. "But she's human. Who would give you the authority to-?"

"You can thank your precious Aizen," said Grimmjow, relishing the mixture of shock and disgust that contorted Loly's features.

Orihime could barely process what he was saying. His _Fraccion_? Why would Aizen do that? More importantly, why would Grimmjow _agree_?

"I've had a long day," said Grimmjow, "So I'm gonna do you a favor by sparing your lives. You're not fucking worth it." He tossed Loly's limp body at Menoly's feet. "Now get her out of here before I change my mind."

* * *

From the moment that she entered Hueco Mundo, Orihime understood that her life was forfeit. Once Aizen deemed her expendable, her death would be ensured. This was why she wasn't surprised when Loly broke into her room with every intention of killing her. She was afraid, but she wasn't surprised. What did surprise her, however, was that someone could do the opposite. And that someone could be Grimmjow, who had not only saved her life once, but twice now. Granted, he had been the root cause in at least one of those instances. But still, she felt that anyone willing to stand up for her (especially at this point), no matter how misguided, deserved their due.

"Thank you," she said.

"Save your breath," said Grimmjow. "And stop looking at me like I'm some kind of hero. It's pathetic."

"I was just-"

"Don't bother," he said. "You think I'd really lower myself to save the life of a human if there wasn't something in it for me?"

"I...," Orihime suspected as much. So why couldn't she stop the slight sting of disappointment? "No. I guess not."

"Glad to hear that we're on the same page. For once."

She huffed, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be angry with him. "So why did you do it?"

"Do what? Save your ass_ again_ or declare you as my Fraccion?"

Orihime shrugged. "Neither makes any sense."

"No shit," said Grimmjow. "But I guess it would be easier if you knew, although I normally don't lower myself into explaining things to subordinates."

_Which is probably what got his whole Fraccion killed in the first place,_ Orihime thought grimly. Thankfully, she kept this thought to herself.

"So what's your plan?"

Grimmjow stuffed his hands into pockets. "It's not my plan actually. It's Gin's."

* * *

_It was the strangest thing, thought Grimmjow. To have the blade of one of the Aizen's favorite lieutenants pressed against his throat, a note of distinct threat hidden behind that dangerously tranquil face. The Sexta Espada would have expected such a reaction from Tousen, but not from Gin. _

_And then suddenly Gin destroyed the security camera- the end of his Shinsou piercing the lens of the one positioned in the corner of the room. _

"_Whoops," said Gin. "Guess we have some technical difficulties." _

"_What the hell's your deal?" _

"_Quiet," said Gin. "We have about thirty seconds before that security camera sends a signal that it's been compromised to the main control room."_

"_Wouldn't you get in trouble for that?"_

"_Of course not. I'll just blame you."_

"_You bastard." _

"_Like I said, time is short. I want you to know that Aizen is planning to kill you. Tomorrow." _

_For once in his life, Grimmjow remained silent. Had Aizen finally seen Grimmjow as more of a liability than an asset? But he had just regained his status as the Sexta Espada. Was he going to kill him just as he regained the most important thing in his entire bleak existence- his rank? Yep, that sounded just like the self-righteous piece of shit. _

"_So I die," said Grimmjow. "It wouldn't be without a fight, though. But what's it to you though?" _

"_Trust me," said Gin. "Seein' you alive isn't exactly something I take joy in. But you have your uses and it would be a shame to waste them." _

_Grimmjow waited for him to elaborate._

"_Believe it or not, we both want the same thing," said Gin. "Aizen's death." _

_Grimmjow tilted his head. Was he hearing things right? Aizen's most trusted and loyal lieutenant wanted to go so far as to kill his master?_

"_You're more twisted than I thought," said Grimmjow. "Not that I care, but why me? Why not someone like Ulquiorra?"_

"_Because," Gin said simply, "You are the only one whose loyalty Aizen can't trust. That and because out of all the others, you have the strongest reason to live. And the strongest reason to win." _

_A brief pause. _

"_Alright," said Grimmjow. "I'm listening."_

* * *

"Gin is planning a rebellion?" said Orihime.

At some point during the conversation, she had sunk down into the soft pillows of the couch. Her eyes had grown heavy, her body as physically exhausted as her mind was emotionally.

"Something like that. He couldn't give me all the details, but he told me the gist of what to do. He told me a way for me to keep me alive was to prove my usefulness to Aizen, and the only way to do that was through you. That was what today was all about, although most of what was really my own brand of genius."

"So you _are_ just using me. " Orihime hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but even when she did, they only came above a whisper. The disappointment behind them, however, did not escape Grimmjow's more sensitive hearing.

"Yes, I am just using you," he said coldly. "But think of it this way: stick with me, and we both earn our freedom."

"And if I decide not to?" Her gaze bore into him deeply.

"Then we both die," said Grimmjow. "So the way I look at it, you don't have a choice."

"I don't think I ever have," said Orihime, though she didn't seem to be speaking to him in particular.

Grimmjow would have said some biting remark, but chose not to. The way the girl kept talking was making him both angry and confused. What was even more frustrating was that he wasn't sure why. But what the hell, he was too tired to care.

"What are you doing?" Orihime eyes widened as Grimmjow began undoing his hakama.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to bed."

She glanced away as he pulled his jacket over his head, exposing the hardened muscles underneath.

"Don't you have your own bedroom?" She would have liked to believe that she didn't squeak as she said the words, but there was no helping it. At least he couldn't see the deep red blush that scalded her cheeks. Well, she hoped.

"I'd go to my own room, but it got demolished along with the arena. And I'll be damned if I have to bunk with Nnoitra or Ulquiorra for the next few months." He threw back the covers of the bed. "Think of it as a compliment. You're less annoying than they are."

_No, I'm just more of a pushover than they are_, she thought bitterly.

"But where will I sleep?" She said, removing her hands from her eyes only to see that Grimmjow had barely even covered the slight dip in his waist with the blanket. Great. On top of being a totally arrogant jerk, he was also a wholly shameless one. A totally shameless and naked one.

_Stop that!_ She scolded her mind.

"Not my problem," said Grimmjow. "You've got the couch don't you?" He leaned back, resting his head against crossed arms. He pressed his tongue against his top teeth. "You could always join me, you know."

She huffed. "Right. As if."

He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

She crossed her arms. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be fine right here."

Another shrug. "Suit yourself."

He turned off the lights, and Orihime was swallowed by the dark. There were only the thin slices of moonlight that cut through the bars of her window. Surprisingly, Grimmjow was already asleep with the quick ease of a soldier who rested whenever he could. It was strange to see him this way, she thought. He looked so vulnerable. Almost like the way Ichigo did before she said her tearful goodbye to him forever and a year ago.

If she had the energy to, she could try and kill him. Right now, while he was asleep. He was far stronger than she was, but she could try. She might have been able to wound him and bought herself enough time to try and escape this horrible place. But this thought and the breadth of its viciousness only caused a sharp pang in her heart. How long would it take, she wondered, before she was changed into an unfeeling instrument of death? Like Grimmjow. Like Ulquiorra. Like her brother Sora when he…

Without thinking, she moved forward. Not knowing what she was doing or why she was doing it. She was tired, that was all. She needed to be next to someone, someone who both reminded her of her humanity (even though he sometimes refuted it in the same breath). The irony left an ashy taste in her mouth.

She lay across from him for a long time, her body still fully clothed and tucked at the farthest edge from Grimmjow's own unclothed one. It was strange, she thought. That she could feel so much fear and not care. As she sunk further into sleep, she found herself dreaming of Ichigo racing across the deserts of Hueco Mundo. He was calling out for her, his cries echoing across the white dunes of sand. Maybe this was what Rukia meant when she told her not to hesitate in the face of death?

But what if the face of death had also, in some inexplicable way, become her friend?


End file.
